


Arrested

by realfakedoors



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anxious parents, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 14:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15075038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realfakedoors/pseuds/realfakedoors
Summary: The coolest kids in Beach City accidentally commit a crime, and the parents in the waiting room aren't handling it super well. Greg tries to be supportive.or, a prompt fic: "The Cool Kids (Sadie optional) - They made a horrible mistake and got arrested for it"





	Arrested

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thanks to my good friend [e350](https://archiveofourown.org/users/E350tb/pseuds/E350tb) for helping me edit this!

The waiting room at the Delmarva County Jail was… well, it was a lot of things. Most days, though, it ranged from anywhere between positively miserable to mildly sobering.

Some days were dreary. Most were gray, linoleum floors and fluorescent lights about as dead as the face of the lady officer who sat at the front desk. It was usually uncomfortable and almost always tense. Too cold, too cramped, and too quiet.

On this particular day, it was all of the above. Greg Universe thanked the stars, for once, that Steven was a magical kid with magical responsibilities. He and the Gems still hadn’t returned from whatever mission had swept them out of town, and right now, it gave him a huge breath of relief to sorta-know where his son was, as long as that happened to be _NowhereNearBeachCity_.

The old rockstar surveyed the room, trying to think of something comforting to say. He’d been the one worried sick about his kid a million times over, he should have some sort of… advice to offer, right? Something witty or comforting? _Anything_?

Instead, Greg sat silently, observing the other occupants that sat in creaky metal chairs and, in Vidalia and Yellow Tail’s case, on a bench with Onion wedged between them. William Dewey looked about ready to start pulling out what little remained of his hair. Greg was sure the man had never sweat so much, not even on election days. Directly across from the former politician, Barb bounced her leg and continually glanced from the clock on the wall, to the one on her wrist. Clock. Wrist. Bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. Clock. Wrist. Bouncing, bouncing, bouncing. Anxiety painted her features like something Greg had never seen, and watching her ride the waves of panic was starting to make him uncomfortable.

Kofi was outside at the moment, taking a phone call, and that left Kiki alone at the far end of the hall. Greg had watched the girl grow up from the day she was born, and never, _ever_ had he seen her usually bright features look so empty. The girl was crushed, clearly, and Greg found himself back to square one, thanking his lucky stars that Steven was away.

Everyone continued to speak without words, the ticking of the overhead clock the only real conversationalist amongst them. Vidalia met Greg’s eyes occasionally, and he could practically see each piece of her patience chisel away as the minutes turned to hours. Eventually, her laugh lines appeared to be carved from stone, all mirth replaced by worry and age.

William Dewey opened his mouth to comment several times, and Greg looked up hopefully when the man’s lips would part. He would always end up just shaking his head, ultimately resting his face in his hands. The man would stare at the floor in intervals before coming up for another wordless comment.

By the time Kofi returned, looking like he’d added a decade to his posture, Greg decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s going to be fine, you guys know that, right?”

Onion mumbled something to Yellow Tail as all heads turned to Greg, and he suddenly thought the room felt about twenty times hotter than it had before.

“Easy for you to say, Universe,” William Dewey replied with surprising acidity.

Barb shot the man a look, and Vidalia seemed to be contemplating some sort of violence if her expression was any indication.

Clearing his throat, Greg let out a hollow laugh. “No - no, I’m serious. This - what the kids did, it’s not life-or-death, you know? They’ll probably get a slap on the wrist and we’ll all head home. Maybe we’ll have a good laugh about it someday?”

Kiki sent an appreciative, but clearly forced, smile his way. All the other adults in the room turned back to their quiet anxieties, not a trace of reassurance settling in the drab hallway.

 _Oh boy. They’re worse than I thought_.

Greg decided the only face he could bear right now was the one on the wall, displaying the time, so he watched the hands move and move and move.

Almost twenty minutes passed before someone else broke the silence - the slight choking sound caused them all to jump.

“Hey, hey, shhh. It’s okay,” Vidalia cooed, plucking Onion up from the seat and positioning him on her lap. The boy was crying, and if Greg didn’t know better, he’d say the kid might have been crying for _awhile_. How long had he been sitting there in, tears rolling down his face in complete silence, afraid to disturb everyone? Suddenly Greg felt a punch of cowardice grip his insides, and he bit his lip to keep from sighing.

“ _Mama, mamama, mamumuamamam._ ” Yellow Tail rested a hand on Onion’s head, petting his hair in an effort to quiet him.

He kept crying, though. In fact, it almost seemed louder than before, and Kofi, Barb and Greg exchanged worried looks. Dewey stood up from his chair and took a step forward, like he wanted to help in consoling Onion but was unsure how. The woman stationed at the desk had begun to eye them wearily, her gaze flickering between the tissue box at the counter and the pair adjacent to her.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Vidalia repeated herself, bouncing Onion on her knee. If she didn’t sound so much like she was convincing herself, the comforting might have worked. Instead, the boy took one look at his mother’s face and began to weep even louder.

“Uhh…” Dewey said, looking around at the others. Barb shrugged and Greg nodded, encouraging him to try _something_ , a _nything_ that might help him stop crying. Yellow Tail and Vidalia exchanged worried glances, communicating their concerns for _two_ sons now instead of just one.

It was turning out to be a very long day for everyone.

With no end to Onion’s crying in sight, Kofi leapt to his feet and Dewey, the only other one standing, cringed. He took a protective step between the family on the bench and the irate-looking pizza-shop-owner.

Kofi met Dewey’s stance with a hard glare. “Move. I just want to… _Hey, child_.”

Onion’s attention was captured for just a moment, evidently surprised to find someone else talking to him. Fat tears still rolled down his cheeks, dripping onto Vidalia’s overalls from his chin, but his heaving quieted slightly.

“Don’t you worry about your brother. I’m sure he did nothing wrong. This mess has my girl’s fingerprints all over. He’ll be okay!”

Everyone was silent for a moment, surprised and perhaps even touched by Kofi’s sudden kindness. The man did raise two twin daughters, though, so it wasn’t totally unbelievable that he had a knack with calming one kid down when the other was in trouble. Kiki was watching with rapt attention, her face unreadable as Onion’s lip quivered.

A collective sigh filled the hall when the boy ducked his head and leaned into Vidalia’s chest, crying in earnest once again. He did whisper something to the woman, muttering something into her overalls as she continued to bounce him in her lap.

“Ugh,” Vidalia rolled her head back and closed her eyes. Yellow Tail, needing no explanation, took Onion into his arms and cradled him like an infant. The boy seemed comfortable, given his diminutive size, but he continued to cry and refused to look at anyone.

All eyes on the exhausted looking mother, she slapped her hands on her knees and dragged herself to standing. She had half-kicked off her slippers and worked her feet back into the soles, grimacing in Greg’s direction.

“Hey, a word?”

Anxiously pulling at his long hair, Greg nodded and followed her down the hallway and out the front doors of the station. It was later than he realized, considering he was watching the clock; the sun had almost completely set and the day was quickly yielding to night. It would have been beautiful, if Greg had the emotional energy to process anything right now. He had spent it all on worrying over his friends.

Eventually, he patted Vidalia’s shoulder when she sat down on the front steps. “Is… uh, everything okay?”

“Peachy,” she said with a dull laugh. Greg chuckled and took his hand back, leaving the conversation up to her.

After a few minutes, the woman let out a low exhale and looked at the sky. “He’s mad at me. Onion. _That’s_ why he’s upset.”

Greg was genuinely surprised by this news, and he blinked a few times. The best he could come up with was a question to counter.

“...Why?”

“Because I… _fuck_ , Greg, cause Yellow Tail and I screamed at each other in the car. The whole way here. I was so worried for Sour Cream that I… he was in the back seat. He heard everything. God, I am so bad at this.”

“Whoa, whoa, Vi,” the man turned to face her a little more on the steps. “You’re not _bad_ for that. You were worried. _Everyone’s_ worried. I mean, who would have thought the kids would… I just, I mean, _arson_? It was a shock to everyone. Your kid’s probably… probably just processing, you know?”

She made a noncommittal noise and rubbed her eyes with her hands, looking, for the first time Greg had ever seen her, exactly her age. It was hard for him to watch.

“Sour Cream is a good kid. They’re all good kids, Vi. I imagine Onion might be… worried about him, that’s all. If you were mad, he might think you’re mad _at_ Sour Cream.”

“I’m not mad at him!” She snapped, her head shooting up from her hands. Greg couldn’t help but notice how red and tired they were, and the best he could manage was a sad smile and a nod.

“I know that, but Onion probably doesn’t. Think about it - if he’s getting in trouble with the law, the kid’s probably worried sick that he’s going to be in trouble with you all too. I think he just wishes none of this happened.”

“Tsch. That makes two of us.”

“More like, all of us,” Greg added with a half-hearted shrug, trying to lighten the mood.

Vidalia half-laughed, apparently appreciating the attempt, and stretched her arms out. “I guess we should get back. If Onion hasn’t calmed down…”

Standing back up required an embarrassing amount of effort from both of them, bones creaky and hips protesting at the strain. By the time they were up, Greg sighed in relief and Vidalia rolled her eyes.

“Getting old is the worst,” he remarked as they re-entered the police station, rubbing his lower back.

“Speak for yourself, Old Man,” Vidalia nudged his ribs as the door shut behind them, and Greg was happy to hear some of her usual attitude returned. “ _I’m_ like a fine wine, thank you very much.”

Trying not to laugh as they passed the woman at the desk, he leaned towards his friend and whispered, “You mean sour and excessive?”

“ _Aye!_ ” She shot him a warning look, but the smile betrayed her false-anger.

Their joking was interrupted by the time they reached the waiting area, but to their joint surprise, it was not by the sound of wailing. In fact, Yellow Tail and Onion were perfectly silent, the latter sitting in the old man’s lap. Both had their eyes glued to the apparent stand-off in the middle of the hallway.

“ _You take that back_ ,” Kofi growled up at Barb with no small amount of disdain.

The mailwoman pulled off her signature satchel and threw it back to the chair she had previously been occupying. Dewey, now seated, cringed as the flew past him.

“Yeah, not happenin’, short-stuff. I didn’t raise my little girl to get into any trouble, and now that she’s been hanging around with you and yours,” the woman paused, glaring around the room at the others. “She goes and gets arrested. _This_ does have your girl’s prints all over it, and I -- ”

“ _Barb, stop_ ,” Greg half-shouted, trying to keep some amount of civility. He’d seen the woman angry before, and it was never a pretty sight. She looked about ready to stomp Kofi into the dirt, and if the man didn’t take a step back or Barb didn’t calm down, that very well might happen.

 _We don’t need homicide added on top of the arson_ , Greg thought dully. _What kind of life is this? A CSI Bizzaro world?_

He reached forward to rest a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated when their eyes met.

_If looks could kill._

With a steady tone, Greg gulped and met her deathly glare.

“It’s not Kofi’s fault that any of this happened - it’s not Jenny’s, either. So just take a deep breath, okay?”

The woman’s chest was heaving, and Greg could only imagine what sort of conversation had gone on while he and Vidalia were outside. Actually, he’d rather _not_ imagine it.

“C’mon, it’s all going to work out, okay?” The man said when she didn’t take the long inhale he was hoping for. Rather she’d calm down, or she was going to break something; Greg took a small step backwards, in case that _something_ decided to be his nose or jaw.

William Dewey cleared his throat, almost awkwardly, and it was distracting enough that Barb’s anger flickered for a moment. All eyes turned to the former mayor, and he coughed uncomfortably.

“Mrs. M-Miller, I believe Universe here is… right. We shouldn’t blame each other. Or the kids, for that matter,” he sighed at that. “I want to blame everything and everyone _but_ Buck for what happened, but… the fine working officers here mean serious business. They wouldn’t have arrested the bunch for no good reason.”

“Sadie’s… Sadie’s a _good kid_ ,” Barb answered, sounding surprisingly desperate. A hand covered her eyes, the other formed into a shaking fist at her side. “She doesn’t _do_ this kind of stuff! She got good grades! Had a job, a boyfriend… I feel like I could have stopped it, helped her… something.”

Kofi, who had been cautiously backing away from the obvious aggression, used the opportunity to sit down beside his daughter. He sighed, leaning against the girl’s arm, and added, “I know that feeling. It’s not about how you raise them, though. Kiki…” he patted her arm, and the girl had silent tears welling in her eyes.

“She and Jenny are not the same. Never have been. They will make choices that make them different from us, from each other, and from what we want for them. Do I _wish_ Jenny got good grades, like you?” He posed the question to his daughter now, although everyone was clearly listening. The bit of composure Kiki had been managing broke over into a swift waterfall of tears, and her father continued.

“Of course I do. But I am proud of her for other t’ings. She has to make these mistakes… Maybe she is a bad _influence_ on your little girl,” he chuckles weakly, and Barb’s expression quickly flickers to guilt. “But she is _not_ a bad person.”

“ _Mamam,_ ” Yellow Tail said, bowing his head respectfully. He put a hand over his heart, and Greg felt himself smiling at the slow reconciliation.

Vidalia, having resettled with her family, leaned forward once it was clear Kofi was finished. “None of them are bad people. They’re… they’re all good kids,” she paused, placing a hand carefully on top of Onion’s head. The boy watched with wide, dry eyes. “I feel guilty for letting Sour Cream get wrapped up in this, but I know your kids, too. I don’t blame anyone. Well, except maybe Greg.”

“Hey!” The man piped up, indignant, but the woman was smiling and rolled her eyes. Apparently, everyone _else_ seemed to enjoy Greg being the butt of the joke, though, because all of them laughed. It was uneven and a little strained, but the air felt a million times lighter as everyone returned to their seats.

“God, you’re so sensitive, Universe. It was a joke,” Vidalia chimed as the laughter subsided, and just as a witty comeback started to form on his tongue, the door at the end of the hallway opened.

Had Greg not known better, it looked like the four teens had just witnessed a murder. Jenny’s eyes were puffy and her gaze was focused on the floor. Beside her, Sadie had her hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket, looking directly at her mother with the bags under her eyes. Buck had removed his sunglasses for the occasion, which was startling enough, and his hunched posture and deep frown was even more troubling. Sour Cream had lost his hoodie in the fire, and there was soot all over his shirt and face, making him look especially pale.

A muscular police officer, at least a head taller than Greg, stepped out beside them with a tired smile peeking through a prominent mustache. “You all the families?”

No one moved, which did not surprise the officer, because he bulldozed on without a response. “There’s some more investigating that has to be done, but for now, your kids can go home - we typically recommend…”

Whatever bureaucratic suggestions the man had fell on deaf ears, because the moment the group was cleared to return to their parents, every person in the hallway flew to standing. Arms and bodies were quickly smushed together, voices drowning each other out in mixed cries of relief and exhaustion.

Greg stood back, observing and catching little snips of conversation over the raucous energy.

“ _MY GIRL!_ Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay. Oh Sadie, honey, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“ _M-Mom_?” The short blonde sounded shocked, her voice muffled by her mother’s crushing arms. “You’re not… mad?”

“ _MAD?_ Sadie, I almost _killed_ Kofi five minutes ago! Of course I’m mad! But just let me be happy to see you for a second!”

“ _Mamammamama,”_ Sour Cream said awkwardly, patting a shamelessly weeping Yellow Tail on the shoulder; the teen was clearly embarrassed to be the cause of tears of joy from his step-father. The rest of his body was being crushed by his mother, swearing and cursing and laughing and smiling that her son was _okay_. Onion had climbed on top of his older brother’s shoulders the moment he appeared in the doorway (with amazing, if not slightly disconcerting, speed for a child so young). The younger boy had incidentally also blackened from ash and soot during his ascent, but the smile that fixed his features was huge.

The former mayor stood a few feet from his son, rubbing his hands together like he was about to place the world’s most foolish bet. Buck watched, evidently confused, and waited for his father to say something.

“Now son,” he began in his mayoral tone. “I know we talked about me, uh, being more… _cool_ with your… getting on’s with your friends. And you’ve mentioned before that, er, _hugs_ aren’t exactly _hip_ with the kids...”

The senior Dewey stopped, letting out a gasp when he realized his boy had thrown his arms around his middle, not even letting the man finish his request.

“It’s c-cool, Dad.”

Amazed, the mayor slowly wrapped his arms around his son. “Are you crying?”

“N-no,” Buck sniffled. “That’s… n-not cool.”

The man laughed and squeezed the boy against him. “Got it.”

Jenny had opted just to kneel to speak to her father, who was throwing up his hands in typical-Kofi fashion.

“Do you have _any idea_ how worried I was? You could have been burnt like a Pizza!”

Jenny’s lip twitched, but she rolled her eyes dramatically. “...Dad, you did _not_ just make that joke.”

Beside her, Kiki was resting a hand on her shoulder, the other shielding her face from shame at their father’s lame attempt at humor.

“I can’t handle you right now,” Jenny sighed.

“Can you ever?” Kiki added slyly, and the girls both laughed.

The happy sound was cut short when Jenny rolled her eyes again. “Ugh, Dad, _don’t cry_ …”

Despite the noise, the police officer managed to wrangle his way through the crowd and eyed Greg suspiciously.

“None of these kids yours?”

“Nope,” Greg answered, hardly paying attention. He was trying to figure out what poor Sadie was trying to say, looking like she might be suffocating under her mother’s embrace.

The man gave a grunt of acknowledgement before adding, “That’s good. I’ve got two of my own. It must be hell for these lot, knowing that one of their kids was in danger or in trouble with the law.”

Tilting his head slightly, Greg could have laughed.

“Oh, I couldn’t _imagine_. _My_ son? In a _dangerous_ situation? Must be _terrifying_.”

A grave nod followed, and the police officer let out a low sigh. “Hopefully you’ll never have to know.”

The man slapped him firmly on the back and walked away.

Greg snorted and put his hands in his pockets, searching for his cell phone. Quite abruptly, he decided to give his son a call.

It rang twice before Steven answered, and Greg could practically hear the smile in his son’s voice

“Hiya, Dad!”

“Hey there, kiddo,” he covered his other ear with a hand in an attempt to block out all the other voices.

“Sorry I’m not home yet - the Gems and I are almost done. Is everything okay?”

Greg wasn’t exactly sure how to answer - he hadn’t really called Steven for a particular reason.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, buddy. Everything’s… everything’s great.”


End file.
